


This is how it feels to take a fall

by definitelythor (yourlionheartx)



Category: Atlantis (UK TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Because its canon, Demiromantic Pythagoras, First Kiss, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 16:30:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4066822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourlionheartx/pseuds/definitelythor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mordern University AU. Pythagoras helps a drunken boy dressed as an angel get home from a bar and his life is turned upside down</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is how it feels to take a fall

There’s an angel sitting at the bar. Pythagoras is trying to listen to what Hercules is drunkenly rambling on about, but these huge feathery white wings keep catching his attention. If Pythagoras had known it was fancy dress night at the bar tonight he would have never let Hercules drag him out. He should be studying. He has so much work to do before the term starts on Monday.

“Oh for God’s sake,” Hercules mutters. He pulls a crumpled ten pound note out of his pocket and pushes it towards Pythagoras. “Stop staring at him and buy him a drink.”

“I’m not staring,” Pythagoras says. He takes the money anyway because he’s broke and Hercules will only spend it on more beer.

The angel leans forward on the bar, calling someone over for a drink and for a second it looks like he might fall off of the stall he’s on. Pythagoras looks down at his own drink of coke, because he doesn’t like drinking. He’s seen what getting drunk can do to people, and he doesn’t want to risk becoming like that.

When he looks back at the angel he hears Hercules sigh. “I’m going to go to the toilet, and when I get back I want you to be talking to that guy.”

Pythagoras rolls his eyes. “Not going to happen.”

He watches Hercules leave, absolutely determined to stay where he is. There’s people on the small stage at the other side of the bar, shadows moving around, adjusting mic stands and testing the drum kit. Pythagoras watches them. He’s starting to wonder when Hercules is actually coming back when he hears a crash behind him.

The angel has fallen backwards off of his stall and landed in a heap. Pythagoras jumps up and rushes over.“Are you all right?” he asks, holding out his hand to help him to his feet.

The angel smiles up at him. “I am now,” he says and Pythagoras wants to roll his eyes and leave him on the floor, because that’s an awful line but he helps the man to his feet anyway. When he’s stood up, the angel leans against Pythagoras like he can’t stand on his own.

“Are you here with anyone?” Pythagoras asks.

“They went home but I wanted to see the band.” He gestures in the general direction of the stage, almost hitting Pythagoras in the face.

“I’m going to call you a taxi,” Pythagoras says. He pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Where do you live?”

“I could go home with you instead?” He’s far too close, leaning against Pythagoras and holding onto his jumper. Pythagoras thinks if he steps back the angel will land on his arse again and Pythagoras isn’t a fan of having his personal space invaded by strangers, but he doesn’t want to be responsible for hurting him either.  

He shakes his head in response to the angel’s question, because he doesn’t know what else to do. He sees Hercules leave the mens room, looking over at Pythagoras and raising his eyebrows.

“Shut up and help me out,” Pythagoras says before Hercules can say whatever he’s about to say. “He’s probably concussed or something, and he stinks of beer.”

Hercules laughs, and Pythagoras doesn’t really blame him, but he does walk over and help Pythagoras to prop the angel up, throwing an arm around his neck. Pythagoras does the same, feathers hitting him in the back of his head, and they lead him out of the bar and into the cold.  

“Where do you live mate?” Hercules asks but the angel isn’t even looking at him, staring at the floor. “Come on, help us out - ”

“On campus,” the angel says.

“That’s a good start, I guess.”

Pythagoras sighs, watching the breath in front of him. It’s really, really cold and the angel is wearing some toga-type thing which is leaving his arms completely bare and covered in goosebumps. “He could just sleep on our sofa,” he suggests. “If he is concussed I don’t want to put him in a taxi on his own and I also don’t particularly want him to die of hypothermia.”

“You’re so caring,” Hercules says.

“I know right.”

The angel falls asleep in the taxi and Pythagoras has to shake him awake when they get to the flat he shares with Hercules. They get him onto the sofa and he falls asleep again, wings still intact, which Hercules seems to find hilarious.

“This is your fault,” Pythagoras says.

“How? I just wanted you to buy him a drink, not bring him home.”

“I’ve already told you, I’m not at university to meet guys. I’m here to get a first class degree and then a masters and then a PhD - ”

“And then?”

Pythagoras opens his mouth but then swallows and looks down at his hands, because he still doesn’t have an answer to that. But when he finishes his PhD he’ll know what he wants to do, he’s got enough time to think about it.

Hercules pours a glass of water and leaves it next to the angel. “I just want you to have a good time, to have some fun once in a while,” he says to Pythagoras.

Pythagoras thought moving in with an older friend rather than staying in halls with other students would be the best way to avoid having ‘fun’ but Hercules seems hell bent on ensuring Pythagoras gets as much of it as possible. He glances down at the boy on his sofa, wondering if they can get the wings off without waking him because he looks uncomfortable.

“We should get him a bucket or something too,” he mutters.

**

When Pythagoras walks into his front room the next morning, the angel is sitting up on the sofa, his wings lying next to him on the floor. He glances up at Pythagoras and then gets to his feet, his cheeks red and his eyes wide. “I am so sorry,” he says quickly.  

Pythagoras shrugs a shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“Um - not terrible, considering. I’m not sure if the hangover has kicked in yet.” He bites into his bottom lip, looking down at the carpet.

“I’m Pythagoras, by the way,” Pythagoras says.

“Hi Pythagoras. I’m Icarus.” Icarus holds out his hand for Pythagoras to shake, and Pythagoras kind of wants to laugh at the absurdity of it. He shakes Icarus’s hand.

Icarus does laugh though, looking down at the floor again and shaking his head. “I’m so embarrassed, sorry for last night. I don’t remember a lot but if I did anything to make you feel uncomfortable, then I’m really sorry.”

Pythagoras feels kind of bad for every bad, misinformed judgment he made about Icarus last night. He’s actually sickeningly nice. “Don’t worry about it,” he says.

“Can I - would be okay to ask for your number or have I messed this up beyond repair?” Icarus asks. He’s still blushing a bit as he reaches for the beads around his neck and rolls one between his finger and thumb.

Pythagoras doesn’t know what to say. Luckily, it’s then that Hercules walks in. “Hey, you’re alive,” he says, smiling at Icarus.

“Oh, hi. Yeah. I’m alive,” Icarus says. “Thank you for letting me stay.” He’s picking the wings up off of the floor and brushing them off. “I’m going now.”

“Did you make them yourself?” Pythagoras asks as Icarus walks towards the door.

Icarus frowns, turning to look at Pythagoras. “The wings? Yeah - well, with my Dad.” Pythagoras watches him pull the wings closer to himself, like he thinks Pythagoras might grab them and run off with them.

“They’re really beautiful,” Pythagoras says. He isn’t sure why he’s still talking, why he hasn’t just let Icarus leave. “Will you be all right getting home? Do you want a jacket or something? It’s kind of cold.”

Icarus laughs, bright and airy and he shakes his head. “I’ll be okay, Pythagoras. Thank you for everything. See you around maybe?”

Pythagoras nods. “See you around.”

The door closes behind Icarus and Pythagoras doesn’t turn around until Hercules clears his throat. “What?” he asks Hercules, who’s smiling at him.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

**

Two rows in front of Pythagoras there’s a boy wearing a grey beanie hat with curly hair peeking out, and when he turns to say something to his friend next to him, Pythagoras realises it’s Icarus. Pythagoras really didn’t think they’d see each other again but there he is. It’s a lecture for Engineering students who want to brush up on their Geometry knowledge. Pythagoras doesn’t need to brush up on his knowledge at all because Geometry is kind of his specialty subject, but he had a free hour in his time table.

Now he’s not even listening to what the lecturer is saying because this stranger who slept on Pythagoras’s sofa is now sitting in a Geometry lecture and it makes absolutely no logical sense to Pythagoras why he can’t just look away.

When the lecture ends, Pythagoras takes a long time putting his pens and paper away and then he walks onto the steps at the same time as Icarus does, holding his breath as he waits for Icarus to glance up. “Pythagoras,” Icarus says as soon as he spots him. He smiles wide and takes the steps two at a time until they’re standing opposite each other. “You take Engineering?”

Pythagoras grips tighter to the strap of his shoulder bag. “Would you judge me if I said I’m here for fun?” he asks.

“Would you judge me if I fell off of a bar stool and then tried to flirt with you when you helped me up?” Icarus asks, barely hiding the smile pulling his lips.

“Oh, it’s coming back to you then?”

“Yeah, unfortunately. Hey, can I buy you a coffee? As a thank you present?”

“I have a seminar in five minutes,” Pythagoras says, watching as Icarus’s smile falters for a second before it’s bright again.

Icarus shrugs. “Okay, another time then? I have an essential Mathematics lecture on Wednesday that might be right up your street.”

Pythagoras laughs. “I’ll be there” he says with a nod.

**

“Find a way out of this,” Icarus says. He’s standing in front of the sun but Pythagoras still has to squint when he looks up at him. There are two take away coffee cups in his hands and he passes one to  Pythagoras, sitting down next to him. It takes Pythagoras a moment to realise that he missed the Mathematics lecture he told Icarus he’d be at, and he turns to apoligise but Icarus is smiling at him.

“It’s just an Americano with a little milk. I have sugar in my pocket, if you take it. It’s actually hard to order someone else a coffee, people are picky.”

Pythagoras takes a mouthful of the drink. “This is perfect,” he says.

Icarus grins. “Good.”

Pythagoras is sitting under a tree on campus because he doesn’t have time to go home and then come back for his last lecture of the day. He leans back against the trunk and looks across the field at students playing football and frisbee and sitting in crowds talking and sharing lunch.

He wonders if Icarus thinks he’s weird for being here on his own. Pythagoras has never felt weird. He finds it hard to talk to people he doesn’t know, and harder to make friends, but he’s never worried about how that looks to other people. Until now.

“There’s a party on campus tonight,” Icarus says. “I don’t really know anyone going, thought maybe you’d like to be my date?”

Pythagoras stares at Icarus as Icarus drinks his coffee and looks at the group of guys smoking outside the library. “No,” Pythagoras says, surprising himself. He swallows as Icarus turns back to him, not hiding the hurt look on his face.

“No?” he asks.

“I’ll go with you to the party, but not as your date,” Pythagoras says. He looks back down at the lid of his coffee. “I don’t really know you yet. I’d rather get to know you as a friend first.”

Icarus smiles and nods his head. “Okay. So, Pythagoras, would you like to come to a party tonight as my  _friend_?”

“Okay.”

Pythagoras has never been to a house party before in his life. He’s never had the kind of friends who throw house parties, just quiet get togethers where they don’t even drink. They just have cola and doritoes with dip. He isn’t sure if he’s going to regret this decision.

He gives Icarus his number and after Icarus has left to get to his next seminar, he gets a text.

_im in the ginsberg building btw room 10 looking forward to seeing you ;) xxxxxxxx_

Pythagoras spends the next ten minutes trying to figure out if the winky face was an accident.

The party is for someone called Ariadne because it’s her birthday at the weekend and she’s going to be going back to her parents then. It’s a few doors down from Icarus’s room. Pythagoras isn’t sure if university hall rooms were made for parties, but the kitchen is twice the size of Pythagoras and Hercules’s kitchen and that’s where everyone is hanging out, talking and drinking.

When they get there, Icarus runs towards a pretty girl in a blue dress and throws his arms around her. “Happy birthday, you look amazing,” he says. “This is my friend Pythagoras,” he says and Pythagoras gives her a little wave.

“Hi, Pythagoras. I’m Ariadne,” she says, smiling and then pulling Pythagoras into a hug. Pythagoras isn’t used to hugs. Everyone else seems to treat them like second nature, but Pythagoras never had a particularly huggy family and he’s never quite sure what to do with his hands.

Icarus had hugged him when he’d finally found his room, after walking up and down several halls that all looked the same and almost deciding to just give up and go back home, put Netflix on and order a pizza or something. Icarus’s hugs are clearly perfected over years and years of being hugged. Pythagoras had just stood there awkwardly waiting for Icarus to let go.

“Have a drink,” Ariadne says, stepping back so Pythagoras can get to the kitchen counter which is covered in bottles of cheap alcohol, Asda’s own Vodka and cans of lager.

“Do you have anything non-alcoholic?” Pythagoras asks.

Icarus raises his eyebrows. “You don’t drink?”

“No. Not really.”

“Wow. Seriously?” Icarus looks like he’s just walked up to a very interesting creature in a zoo, not a university student who doesn’t like getting wasted at parties. “Two for me then,” Icarus says after a pause. He turns to pull two of the beers out of the plastic rings, clicking one open and taking a mouthful.

Ariadne is searching through the fridge and she pulls out a can of diet coke, passing it to Pythagoras. “We have a few of those and then water - obviously. But I think that’s it.”

“Thanks.” Pythagoras says as he watches Icarus downing the beer.

**

A few hours later, after watching people get progressively drunker and more and more people moving to the middle of the room to try and dance in the limited space they have, Pythagoras excuses himself from the conversation he’s having about politics with Ariadne’s housemate, Madea, and steps outside for some fresh air.

He checks his phone for the time and tries not to jump when he hears someone fall out of the backdoor behind him. It’s Icarus. He laughs and leans back against the wall, his eyes finding Pythagoras’s.

“Hey you,” he says with a smile.

“You’re very clumsy when you’re drunk,” Pythagoras points out as Icarus walks towards him.

“I know. One of these days you might not be there to save me.” He leans forward and for a second Pythagoras thinks he’s going to kiss him, so he steps back and almost trips over an empty bottle on the grass.

Icarus just sways back again though and looks up. “Look at the stars,” he whispers and Pythagoras glances up. It’s a really clear night and the sky is covered in a sheet of stars. Pythagoras always wishes he knew more about stars. One day he’ll find out what all of the constellations are called.

When he looks at Icarus, Icarus is staring at him and he drops his gaze quickly.  

“Got you a drink,” Icarus says, passing Pythagoras another can of diet coke. He takes a mouthful, tasting something sour on his tongue. Icarus is smiling at him.

“Is there alcohol in this?” Pythagoras asks.

“Tiny bit of vodka,” Icarus says with a nod

“What?”

“A tiny bit. Just a half measure for now.” Icarus says it like he’s done nothing wring, like spiking someones drink is a completely reasonable thing to do.

“Icarus, why would you do that? I told you I don’t drink,"Pythagoras asks.

"Because it’s a party and I don’t want to get drunk on my own.”

Pythagoras could throw the drink over him, if it wasn’t in a can it would have more of an effect obviously, but he could. He just passes it back to him though, opening his mouth but honestly having nothing to say. He shakes his head and walks past Icarus, pushing his hands into his pockets.

“Pythagoras, wait.”

“No, I’m going home.”

Icarus grabs his sleeve and Pythagoras shakes him off. “If you were that desperate for me to get drunk with you, you could have given me a heads up and not gone behind my back. Do you even understand why I’m angry? I don’t want to drink, I definitely don’t want you to get me drunk without telling me.”

Icarus bites into his lip and it manages to give him the look of a wounded puppy when teamed with his wide brown eyes. It makes Pythagoras angrier. “I didn’t think about it like that. I’m sorry,” Icarus says.

“I don’t want to get drunk because my Dad used to get drunk and hit my Mum, okay? Not that I need a reason, because I don’t. But that’s my reason. I don’t like what alcohol does to people.”

Icarus is still holding the can and he looks like he wants to dump the contents over his head himself. He actually looks like he might start crying, but that’s probably because he’s drunk and Pythagoras is too cold and his head hurts.

“I’m going home,” he says again.

This time Icarus doesn’t follow him.

**

Pythagoras isn’t expecting a woman to be sitting opposite Hercules on their tiny dining room table in the corner of their kitchen when he gets home. She looks up at him, smiling shyly and Pythagoras hovers in the doorway, looking between them both.

“Hi, Pythagoras. This is Medusa,” Hercules says.

“Hi,” Pythagoras says.

“Nice to meet you,” Medusa says.

There’s food on the table. This is a date. He’s just walked right into a romantic date and Hercules has never had a romantic date in his life, as far as Pythagoras knows. Trust Pythagoras to interrupt Hercules first ever date.

“Sorry,” he says. “I’ll make myself scarce.”

“Did something happen? You’re back earlier than I expected,” Hercules says.

Pythagoras shakes his head. “No. It’s not - ” He looks at Medusa, who’s still smiling at him. “No, I just got tired.”

He’ll tell Hercules later, but now he wants to lock himself in his room and feel sorry for himself because he had probably started to like Icarus, and to trust him, and that was stupid. His phone buzzes and he squeezes his eyes shut, collapsing face down on his bed. After a few minutes it buzzes again and he slides it open, glaring at Icarus’s name.

_im sorry really, really sorry for being awful i understand why youre upset just know that im sorry_

_did you get home all right? its a long walk hope youre okay. sorry again_

Pythagoras rolls his eyes. Icarus doesn’t even sound that drunk anymore, like he’s been drinking water and splashing it into his face for the past half an hour. He isn’t begging for forgiveness either. Pythagoras would love to hold a grudge for longer, but it’s hard when Icarus is obviously really sorry.

 _I got home fine. I’m fine. Good night_  he texts.

The next day he checks his phone and it says he received a text at 4am which just says _thanks xxxxxx_

Pythagoras feels strangely happy that the kisses are back.  

**

A shadow moves over Pythagoras, but he keeps staring down at his book until he hears a sigh and Icarus moves to sit next to him. “I’m a complete dick when I’m drunk,” Icarus says quietly.

“I know.”

Pythagoras turns to look at him, finding his bookmark and closing the book. Icarus leans his head back against the trunk of the tree, his eyes moving over Pythagoras’s face. “I’m really sorry,” he says.

“I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t have actually let me get drunk, would you?” Pythagoras kind of needs reassurance and he gets it when Icarus shakes his head firmly.

“No. I realised it was awful after you left, and not just because of what you said - it would have been awful anyway.”

Pythagoras stretches out his legs. “You didn’t bring me a coffee,” he notes.

Icarus smiles. “I can go and get one?”

“Stay.” Pythagoras taps the toe of his shoe against Icarus’s and Icarus taps back. Pythagoras feels himself smiling and he looks up through the tree branches at the clouds covering most of the sky.

“What did you get for your Maths A - Level?” Icarus asks.

“Um - I got an A,” Pythagoras says. He watches Icarus taking a notebook and pens out of his bag. “Why?”

“You can help me study.”

“Do I have a choice?” Pythagoras asks and he laughs when Icarus just shakes his head.

Pythagoras moves to sit cross legged and they scatter their stuff out in front of them. He has an hour to kill before his next lecture and he can think of worse ways to spend it than studying with Icarus.

**

_analogue engineering lecture is making me want to go to sleeeep xxxxxxxx_

Pythagoras bites into his lip to stop himself from laughing in the middle of his own Algebra lecture. He hides his phone under his desk as he texts  _Stop texting me! Pay attention to your lecture_

_but its booooring and texting you is more fun. what are you doin? xxxxxxx_

I’m in a lecture too. But I’m actually listening Pythagoras looks up, not quite sure what’s being said.  

_oh really? because it seems like your also texting and not paying attention xxxxxxx_

He has a good point.  _Youre a bad influence x_

_well im trying xxxxx_

Pythagoras grins and shoves his phone back into his pocket, shaking his head.

**

Pythagoras is flicking through photos on Icarus’s Facebook page when Icarus’s name appears on on his phone and for a moment he thinks he knows what Pythagoras is doing, before he realises that makes no sense.

“Pythagoras,” Icarus says as a greeting.

“Icarus.”

“I’m a bit drunk, went out for some fresh air. Kept thinking about you.”

Pythagoras sits up straight. “Icarus - ”

“I know, I know, you don’t feel the same or whatever but I like you. So I wanted to let you know. You’re cool.”

Pythagoras huffs out a laugh. “Cool? No ones ever called me cool.”

“Really, really cool,” Icarus says. He definitely sounds drunk, words slurring into each other. Pythagoras sighs, remembering staying awake past his bedtime to make sure his Dad didn’t pass out or choke on his sick or anything. This is starting to feel familiar.

“Where are you, Icarus? Do you need help getting home?” he asks.

Icarus lets out a shaky breath. “I’m close to mine. Only a short walk.”

“Are you on your own?” Pythagoras asks and Icarus’s silence answers the question.“I’m worried about you. I know students get drunk every night, like that’s just what most of us do but not alone. Icarus, you were alone when I met you. I don’t think that’s good - ”

“My Dad’s in prison,” Icarus says. Pythagoras swallows the rest of his sentence, listening. “He didn’t do it, the thing he’s there for. I’m not allowed to see him at the moment because he got into a fight with someone or something.”

“I’m sorry,” Pythagoras says, because he has no idea what else to say. He hears Icarus let out another breath and he’s sure he hears the noise hitch and if Icarus is crying then Pythagoras really doesn’t know what to do.

“He’s like my best mate, you know? It’s always just been me and him, and I guess I’m coping badly.” Icarus lets out a wet sounding laugh and sniffs. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

“It’s okay. You can talk to me about stuff, I’m your friend,” Pythagoras says. He closes his laptop and lies down on his bed, looking up at the ceiling and listening to Icarus.

“Thank you. You’re a good friend,” Icarus says.

They talk for a few more hours, about their parents and their courses and the music and television they’re into. Pythagoras stays on the phone with Icarus until he’s back in his own room and falling into bed, and even then they still find things to talk about.

It’s almost early morning when Icarus goes quiet and Pythagoras realises he’s fallen asleep and he finally hangs up.

**

“You have the patience of a saint,” Icarus says and he steps forward, cupping Pythagoras’s face in his hands. “Thank you and sorry again. I’m not going to call you next time I get drunk, promise.”

When he takes his hands away Pythagoras is sure he can still feel them. “I liked talking to you. I would have told you to go away if I didn’t.”

Icarus walks into Pythagoras’s house and Hercules looks up from where he’s sitting on the sofa. “You look different without wings,” he says and Icarus reaches to fiddle with the beads around his neck.  

“Hi,” he says.

“So, you two have something to tell me?” Hercules asks and Pythagoras glares at him.

“ _No_. Shut up” he says. “We’re studying, so don’t make too much noise.” He turns back to Icarus and motions for him to follow him to his bedroom.

“Does he think we’re a thing?” Icarus asks, sitting down on Pythagoras’s bed and crossing his legs underneath him.

“Ignore him. He just wants me to be normal or something.”

“You are normal, aren’t you?”

Pythagoras shrugs. “ _I_  think so.”

“How do you two know each other?”

“I grew up next door to him. Can’t remember how we actually met now, but we’ve been friends for forever.”

Icarus smiles, pulling a six pack of coke and a huge bag of crisps out of his bag. “I’ve got the snacks,” he exclaims, throwing everything down on the bed. “You’ve got the brains.”

Pythagoras laughs and sits next to Icarus, picking up a can of coke.“You have brains. You know about analogue engineering. I’m not even sure what that is.”

“Nor am I. I wasn’t paying attention in that lecture, remember?” Icarus flicks through a text book, opening it on a page and laying it flat on Pythagoras’s bed.

“Not my fault,” Pythagoras says.

“Definitely your fault. You’re distracting.” Icarus is smiling as he rips open the bag of crisps and Pythagoras smiles as well, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

He isn’t sure of the time when they finish studying. Icarus looks like he can’t keep his eyes open any longer though, and Pythagoras is sure that for the last hour or so they’ve been talking more than they’ve been working.

“Do you have something to sleep in?” he asks, watching Icarus hide a yawn behind his hand as he nods his head.

If Pythagoras wasn’t so tired he might feel weird about the situation, about how small his bed looks with someone else lying in it and about sleeping next to someone at all, which Pythagoras hasn’t done since he shared a bed with his brother when he was about ten.

He lifts the covers and gets into bed, lying on his back and he feels Icarus move onto his side to face him. “Thanks for being my study buddy,” Icarus says. “I don’t think I’d even bother if it wasn’t for you, and then I’d fail everything so you’re pretty invaluable.”

Pythagoras smiles. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Icarus moves a little closer and Pythagoras turns his head to look at him, noticing that, not for the first time, Icarus’s eyes have dropped to Pythagoras’s mouth. Pythagoras knows that in any other situation, with any other person, that would make him feel uncomfortable. But it’s Icarus, so it doesn’t.

He isn’t sure exactly what that means because he doesn’t think he feels the same as Icarus feels right now, but he feels  _something_.

**

The next morning Pythagoras decides there is nothing in the world cuter than a sleep ruffled, messy haired, just woken up Icarus. He tries to hide his smile as Icarus rolls onto his front and hides his face in his pillow. “Why are you awake?” Icarus asks.

“Because it’s nine o’ clock.”

Icarus groans. “I haven’t been awake this early on a Saturday in my whole life.”

“That’s because you’re lazy. Come on, I’ll make you a coffee.”

Icarus shakes his head. “I’m sleeping, go away.”

Pythagoras is glad he chose to sleep on the outside of the bed. He sits up and stretches his arms above his head. In the kitchen he’s sure he can hear Hercules and he smells bacon cooking. Hercules has the same body clock as Icarus so Pythagoras has no idea why he’s awake this early.

Icarus rolls onto his back, looking up at Pythagoras. “What is with this house? You people are crazy,” he mutters.

Medusa is with Hercules. They’re making breakfast together, bacon and eggs and toast and fresh coffee. Pythagoras watches them for a moment before Hercules notices him.

“Would you like breakfast?” he asks.

Pythagoras is pretty certain Hercules has never even eaten breakfast before. “Um - sure,” he says. He feels Icarus’s hand on the small of his back, just for a moment, before Icarus smiles at Hercules and Medusa and walks past to the bathroom. Pythagoras chooses to ignore the look Hercules gives him.

When Icarus gets back they sit down and have breakfast together, the four of them. Hercules asks Icarus stupid questions about his intentions with Pythagoras and Icarus glances at Pythagoras out of the corner of his eye, like he’s making sure it’s okay with him before they all laugh. Medusa is lovely and Pythagoras watches her hand disappear under the table and grab Hercules’s, trying to hide his surprise behind his coffee mug.

He feels something tap his socked foot and looks at Icarus who is grinning at him, still looking half asleep and wearing a t shirt two sizes too big and slipping off of his shoulder.

Pythagoras smiles, tapping Icarus back and Icarus nudges him with his elbow. He isn’t sure when he last felt so content.

**

“Waking up next to you is becoming a habit,” Icarus says. He rolls over to face Pythagoras, who’s already siting up with a book.

“I think you mean falling asleep half way through studying is becoming a habit,” Pythagoras says.

Icarus shrugs and tucks his hands under his pillow, closing his eyes again. Pythagoras gives him a few more minutes but then taps his shoulder. “You have a nine o’ clock lecture, Icarus,” he whispers.

“No I don’t.”

“Yes you do. You told me last night to make sure I woke you up in time for it, remember?”

Icarus shakes his head, his eyes still closed and Pythagoras sighs. He’s not going to shake him or shout or anything, because it’s Icarus’s choice if he wants to stay in bed, so Pythagoras carries on reading. A few minutes later Icarus sits up, rubbing his eyes and leaning back against the head board.

“Morning,” Pythagoras says, not looking up.

“Yeah, I guess.” Icarus displays his total lack of personal space once again by climbing over Pythagoras to get out of his bed and he stumbles out of the room, mumbling something about having a shower.

Pythagoras finishes the chapter he’s on as Icarus comes back in with just a towel around his waist and his hair still dripping wet. “I forgot to bring clothes with me,” he says.

“Clever,” Pythagoras says. He tries not to stare, looking down at his book as Icarus wanders around trying to find something to wear. Over the last few weeks Icarus has pretty much moved himself in. Pythagoras keeps finding ripped jeans and band t shirts that definitely don’t belong to him or Hercules, and Icarus even has his own shampoo in the shower now. He buys groceries sometimes as a thanks for letting him stay so much.

When Pythagoras first moved in with Hercules he’s certain that this kind of thing would have really annoyed him but he really does love having Icarus around.

“Turn around or put your hands over your eyes,” Icarus says and Pythagoras covers his face with his hands, squeezing his eyes shut so he doesn’t see Icarus drop the towel and put his clothes on. “Okay,” Icarus says once he’s dressed and he’s drying his hair with his towel.

Icarus smiles over at Pythagoras and it doesn’t reach his eyes, which worries Pythagoras before Icarus has even opened his mouth. “I’m going to visit my Dad after my lecture,” Icarus says.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. It’s about an hours train journey. Can we hang out tonight though?”

“Of course,” Pythagoras says. He puts his book down and gets up, running a hand through his hair to try and make it look less of a mess.

Icarus lets out a long breath, looking at the floor and when he looks up again he’s smiling wide. “You’re really cool, thank you,” he says.

“You’ve got to stop thanking me for just being your friend. I like being your friend, it’s not like I’m sacrificing anything,” Pythagoras says.

Icarus nods and moves to pull Pythagoras into a hug. His lips touch Pythagoras’s neck, and Pythagoras isn’t sure if it’s intentional or not. When they pull away, Icarus reaches out to touch his fingers to Pythagoras’s cheek and the room starts to feel very warm all of a sudden.

Pythagoras watches Icarus’s eyes move down to his lips and he holds his breath waiting for something, _anything_  to happen. He swallows when Icarus knocks their foreheads together gently and their noses brush, but then Icarus smiles and steps back, dropping his hand.

“See you later on then,” he says.

Pythagoras isn’t sure if he can remember how to breathe, which doesn’t make sense. He stares as Icarus picks his bag off of the floor. “Right. See you later,” he says.

He walks Icarus to the door and after he’s left he keeps staring at the closed door until Hercules finds him there.

“Are you all right?” Hercules asks, looking concerned.

Pythagoras shakes his head. Then he nods his head, and then he just sighs and goes to sit down on the sofa. “I don’t know.”

“I know it’s confusing, the first time you like someone like that - ”

“How do I know if I like him? I don’t know how that feels, so what if I don’t actually like him like that and I end up hurting him because he wants more?” Pythagoras asks, and it feels like someone has lifted a weight. He lets out a breath and Hercules looks like, for the first time ever, he doesn’t know what to say.

“I think you just know,” Hercules says.

Pythagoras moves to lie down, looking up at the ceiling. “That’s not very helpful,” he mutters.

**

Icarus isn’t answering his phone or replying to Pythagoras’s texts and it’s eight o’ clock, which isn’t late but it is later than Pythagoras expected to hear from him. He’s starting to worry, which is ridiculous because he knows Icarus can look after himself but he can’t help it.

Hercules and Medusa are at the cinema and after that they’re getting drinks, so the house is empty and quiet. Pythagoras switches on the television after going to Icarus’s voicemail for the third time. He’ll wait until nine and then he’ll go to the university halls and see what’s going on.

He leaves at ten to nine.

There’s a party taking up the whole of Icarus’s floor, people spilling out into the corridor and it only takes Pythagoras a few minutes to spot Icarus sitting against the wall and drinking straight out of a bottle of vodka. Pythagoras lets people shove past him, knowing that he’s standing in the way but not being able to step forward any closer.

When Icarus looks up and catches his eye any anger Pythagoras is feeling dissipates at the look on his face. Icarus looks like he might start crying at any moment. Pythagoras walks over and kneels down next to him, taking the bottle and putting it down on the floor. “What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Icarus says.

“You want to get drunk instead? You think that’s going to help?”

Icarus leans his head back against the wall, looking up and sighing. “Yeah,” he says, but it’s obvious that he doesn’t mean it.

“I was waiting for you,” Pythagoras says. He pushes Icarus’s curls back from his face, his hand lingering on his jaw. Icarus bites into his lip, still avoiding Pythagoras’s eyes and Pythagoras leans forward, pressing his lips to Icarus’s cheek. He feels Icarus tense as he pulls away.

“What happened, Icarus?” Pythagoras repeats.

“I don’t think he’s coming home,” Icarus says. His bottom lip starts to tremble. “I’m sorry. I meant to call you.”

“Don’t worry about it. Come on, get up.” Pythagoras stands up and reaches down for Icarus’s hand, hauling him to his feet. He thinks about trying to get his Dad up off of the kitchen floor when he was too drunk to remember how to get to his bedroom and he wonders if he’s just going to end up doing all of that all over again.

Icarus leans on Pythagoras as Pythagoras walks back to Icarus’s room, searching Icarus’s pockets for his keys and letting them in. He’s been in here a few times but he’s sure it’s messier than usual at the moment. Icarus hasn’t even been staying here much, so that’s quite impressive.

Icarus gets into bed with all of his clothes on and buries his face into the pillow while Pythagoras pours him a glass of water.

“Talk to me,” Pythagoras says, holding the water out for Icarus to take.

“Why are you always so grown up?” Icarus mumbles into the pillow.

“I’ve been looking after other people my whole life, I had to grow up,” Pythagoras says. “Sit up and drink this.”

Icarus sits up and takes the glass of water. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“I know you are.” Pythagoras watches him take a mouthful. He raises his eyebrows at Icarus, waiting, and Icarus sighs.

“I feel better when I drink sometimes. I don’t know what you want me to say, Pythagoras.”

“I don’t know either,” Pythagoras admits because he really doesn’t. He wants Icarus to be okay, all of the time. He wants him to talk to Pythagoras when he’s upset instead of drinking vodka on his own. He wants to know that he isn’t going to end up looking after Icarus like he had to look after his Dad and his Mum and his brother and sometimes Hercules.

“Can you stay?” Icarus asks.

“Yeah.” Pythagoras doesn’t have anywhere to be. He kicks off his shoes as Icarus scoots over to give him room. The music from the party is still loud and there are people right outside the room, so Pythagoras knows he probably won’t be able to sleep.

Icarus moves closer to Pythagoras. “You kissed me,” he says.

“On the cheek.”

“Yeah but still, you kissed me - that was cute.”

Pythagoras closes his eyes. “Shut up,” he says with a smile.

“You’re adorable,” Icarus says. He moves to half rest on Pythagoras’s shoulder and Pythagoras lets him. Icarus falls asleep pretty quickly after that. Pythagoras stays awake, staring at the ceiling and listening to the music outside.

**

Pythagoras wakes up first. He always wakes up first. Icarus has rolled over and has his back to him now and Pythagoras is going to just get up and leave, but Icarus hears him. “Where are you going?” he asks, propping himself on his elbows.

“Home.”

“Are you mad at me?”

Pythagoras tries to shove his feet into his shoes without bothering to untie the laces “A little bit,” he says. “But I’ll get over it.”

Icarus sits up. “I thought we were okay.”

“Icarus - I can’t do this again,” Pythagoras says. He can’t get his left shoe on properly so he has to sit back down and tug on it.

“Do what?” Icarus asks.

“Be this person, just someone to look after you, to make sure you don’t end up in hospital or something.” He turns to look at Icarus and immediately wishes he hadn’t, because Icarus is staring at him with wide eyes and that look makes Pythagoras just want to forgive everything and pretend it’s all okay.

He stands up, having finally got his stupid shoe on and he ignores the look on Icarus’s face, closing his eyes and taking a breath. “I think I’m really starting to like you, Icarus,” he says and when he opens his eyes Icarus still hasn’t moved.

Pythagoras isn’t sure if he’s ever felt so scared. It’s like he’s on some kind of precipice and Icarus now has the power to just shove him off of it and watch him fall.

When Icarus drops his gaze down to his hands, Pythagoras feels like he just hit the ground and the wind has been knocked out of him. He waits for a few more seconds and then he turns around and leaves.

**

Hercules once described what a broken heart felt like and Pythagoras had, rather insensitively he realises now, argued that the heart is a muscle and therefore cannot break. It hadn’t made Hercules feel any better, unsurprisingly. Pythagoras thinks he’s beginning to understand what Hercules was feeling now.

Icarus doesn’t call or text. He isn’t under their tree on Monday and he doesn’t turn up on Pythagoras’s doorstep that evening with a bag full of junk food. And Pythagoras misses him. It doesn’t help that Hercules and Medusa are all over each other every second of the day and Pythagoras keeps finding Icarus’s stuff everywhere.

There’s a particularly weak moment when he uncaps Icarus’s shampoo just to breathe in his smell and he almost ends up throwing the bottle across the room.

Pythagoras throws himself back into studying and revising and researching, because it’s his safety net. After his Dad left, Pythagoras spent forty eight hours drinking coffee and reading books about Geometry to try and distract himself. It had been awful and lonely, and this right now is the closest he’s come to feeling the same.

“Come on, Pythagoras, just for an hour,” Hercules says when Pythagoras refuses to go and have drinks with him for the second night in a row.

“Can’t you see how busy I am?” Pythagoras asks.

“You’re not busy. You’re doing that thing you do when you’re upset and think studying until you make yourself sick sounds like a good way to make yourself feel better. You need to get out of the house.”

Hercules knows Pythagoras too well at this point. Pythagoras needs a new best friend.

“What if  _he’s_  there?” Pythagoras asks.

“I’ll give him a piece of my mind if he is.”

Pythagoras smiles. “Just for an hour?” he repeats.

 

Pythagoras shouldn’t be scanning the crowd to catch sight of Icarus. It’s stupid that he still hopes he’ll be here when he knows they don’t have anything else to say to each other and Pythagoras doesn’t even want to see him really. He drinks a glass of coke with Hercules and they talk, which is something Pythagoras hasn’t been doing a lot of recently.

When he goes to the bathroom he checks his phone for the time and he has a text from Icarus

_can we meet and talk?_

Pythagoras stares, checking the name again. He clutches his phone tight as he taps out a reply  _About what? I’m out at the moment._

_about us. i miss you_

Pythagoras shows the text to Hercules dropping his face into his hands as Hercules reads it. “Are you going to see him?” Hercules asks.

“I literally told him I was falling for him and he didn’t say anything at all. It’s nearly been a week, Hercules, and he hasn’t spoken to me. What could he possibly have to say now?”

“Maybe an explanation that will stop you wallowing in self pity.”

Pythagoras twirls his straw around in his drink. “I haven’t been wallowing,” he says.

“You’re the king of wallowing.”

“That doesn’t even sound like a word anymore,” Pythagoras says. He looks over at the bar and remembers a clumsy angel sitting there wearing wings he made himself, and he feels that weird tight feeling in his chest again.

“Fine. I’ll meet him.”

**

Icarus steps back to let Pythagoras walk into his room and he closes the door behind him. For a few moments neither of them say anything and then Icarus clears his throat. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he says.

It’s very anti-climatic after a week of expecting something much bigger, after walking all the way here and playing over every possible scenario in his head. Pythagoras just stares at Icarus, hoping he’s going to carry on but he doesn’t. “You’re so annoying,” Pythagoras says.

“What?”

Pythagoras shakes his head, taking a step closer. “You didn’t even acknowledge me. That was embarrassing. I put myself out there and you ignored me.”

“But you also said that you couldn’t do this, and you shouldn’t have to. I’m a bit of a mess, Pythagoras.”

“Everyone’s a bit of a mess,” Pythagoras says. He moves forward again and he’s right in front of Icarus now. “I’m a mess sometimes. I act like I’m holding it together because that’s just what I’ve always had to do.”

Icarus looks down at the floor, blinking hard. “I’ll let you down.”

“Shut up, Icarus.” Icarus looks up with wide eyes but Pythagoras just shakes his head. “Why did you call me over here? What did you have to say to me?”

Icarus presses his hands over his eyes for a moment and when he takes them away his eyes are wet. “I just wanted you to know that I’ll try - for you I’ll try, because you mean everything to me.”

Pythagoras feels so completely overwhelmed and wound up tight. “I think we’re worth a shot, don’t you?” he asks.

“Really?”

Pythagoras nods. “Yeah, really.”

“I’m sorry - ”

“Don’t you dare.” Pythagoras moves to lean his forehead against Icarus’s. “You apoligise too much,” he says.

“But I am - ”

When their mouths meet Icarus makes a little surprised noise, his hand moving to cup Pythagoras’s jaw. Pythagoras feels everything in him bubbling to the surface, roaring in his ears as his hands move to Icarus’s hair and he feels Icarus’s other hand fist in his jumper. Icarus pulls back, taking a breath, his lips kiss red and Pythagoras moves to press their lips together again.

“Why are you crying?” he whispers against Icarus’s lips. “Am I that bad?”

Icarus laughs, the sound shaky and he presses their for heads together again. “I don’t know why I’m crying,” he admits.

Pythagoras drops one of his hands to where Icarus is still holding onto his jumper for dear life and he entwines their fingers. “I like you, Icarus,” he says.

“I like you too,” Icarus says without a seconds hesitation.

Pythagoras uses his thumbs to wipe away the wetness on Icarus’s cheeks before he closes his eyes and presses another soft kiss to his lips. Pythagoras runs the tips of his fingers over Icarus cheek and Icarus pulls him closer, wrapping his arms around Pythagoras’s neck and deepening the kiss.

Pythagoras sighs as he pulls away, keeping is eyes closed for a few seconds. When he opens them, Icarus smiles at him and then pulls Pythagoras into a hug, burying his face into Pythagoras’s neck and pressing his lips to his skin.

“That was my first kiss,” Pythagoras admits and he can feel Icarus’s lips turn up.

“It was perfect,” Icarus says. “You’re perfect.” He steps back and takes Pythagoras’s hand again, squeezing his fingers and bringing them up to press his lips to Pythagoras’s knuckles.

“Will you stay?” Icarus asks, his voice quiet.

Pythagoras nods. “I’ll stay,” he says.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Icarus by Bastille, which is what I (loosely) based this fic on. I stole the heart doesn't break line from Bones, because Pythagoras would totally think the same way as Temperance does about that. Hope you like it!
> 
> definitelythor.tumblr.com


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